Poor Thing
by Amythista
Summary: In which Dora, Bush, and Homer Simpson happen to stumble, most unluckily, into our favorite demon barber's shop. Now with the full version of "A Little Bush!" Not for Bush-lovers.
1. The Demise of Dora, Bush, and Simpson

Note: I know they're OOC. Anyhoo, enjoy! Read and review, loves!

I have some ale and a slice of Bush for whoever reviews! Unless you're Republican!

Then I have….Hitler! Everyone hates Hitler! Okay, I have one slice of Hitler and one of Bush, and if you like them both, then…..then tell me that! And you'll get the ale, anyhow. If you don't drink you'll get water. If you're Elphaba, then…sorry. And can I have your autograph?

It was a rather rainy day on Fleet Street, and business was slow, so Sweeney Todd was bored. Bored. Now, when Sweeney Todd was bored, bad things happened to Mrs. Lovett and Toby.

There was a lot of crashing coming from upstairs, and Mrs. Lovett looked worriedly up at the ceiling. Business was rather slow for her, as well, so using her common sense, she quickly realized that the barber was probably in one of his moods.

She tsked, and sighed, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Toby, dear," she called to him from across the room. He looked up from the customer he was attending to. "Yeah, Mum?"

"Attend to the customers, I'll be right back." She said, and began to climb the stairs to the barbershop above. She peeked in the door to find Mr. Todd brooding, as usual.

"Mista T, love?" she asked him. He made no reply.

Suddenly there was a ring at the door and a giant cartoon girl walked in.

Mrs. Lovett looked at her, puzzled. Sweeney just stared at her.

"Hola!" she said happily in a high pitched voice. "Hi! How are you?"

"Fine…." Answered Mrs. Lovett, bemused.

'I'm Dora! And this is Boots!" she pointed to a strange looking monkey on her shoulder.

"Hi!" said the monkey. Sweeney Todd got up.

"What may I do for you today?" he asked, looking as though he was going to be sick from the pinkness. (_Not the pinkness of my Lucy, _he thought dreamily, _but a disgusting pink she would never wear. _Then he dissolved into tears, but everyone ignored him because I don't want to get into that storyline.)

"We're exploring Europe! This is London!" said Dora.

Sweeney Todd (who suddenly stopped crying) looked quickly at Mrs. Lovett, who sighed but nodded.

"So-"Sweeney quickly slit her throat. She made a small noise like a machine does when it stops, and then dropped to the ground, her great weight suffocating the monkey.

Sweeney and Nellie stared at the brightly colored corpse.

"'ow do you suppose I'm to make this into a pie?" said Mrs. Lovett finally.

Sweeney shrugged and dragged her over to the chair and pulled the lever.

She fell back into the hole. They listened as she hit the floor of the bake house below.

"Well, I've got new supplies," said Mrs. Lovett brightly. Suddenly the bell rang again and a drunken man with yellow skin entered and began assaulting Mrs. Lovett.

"Marge!!!!!" he cried. "Don't you need a shave, sir?" asked Nellie, pulling away and giving the barber a meaningful glance. "No, I don't," he said.

"Please?" pleaded Nellie. She did not like this cartoon man. Cartoon people scared her. She had a cousin who was a cartoon. He was blown up by dynamite but always came back to life.

"Will you give me a doughnut?" he asked. Sweeney rolled his eyes.

"Yes, sir," he said, which in Sweeney-speak meant _I'll tell you anything so I can kill you and go back to brooding._ He was in a worse mood then he had started out with, although killing the girl had helped. He decided to make this one's death slow and painful.

"Sit down, sir, sit," he said smoothly to the fat man, which actually meant _You're about to die. Muhahaha_. The yellow man did, emitting a large groan.

Sweeney didn't even attempt to shave him. He simply leaned over and slit the man's throat. He made a noise, again, and Sweeney looked at him in disgust as he pulled the lever. There was a thump, and it was over. Mrs. Lovett walked hesitantly over to Sweeney. "Mista T?" said she, quietly.

"Mm." he grumbled, which in the magical world of Sweeney Todd language, meant: _"WHAT."_

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Mmmm…." meaning _NO, OF COURSE NOT! MY WIFE IS DEAD, MY CHILD IS HELD CAPTIVE BY MY WORST ENEMY AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF-_

Suddenly, in a burst of red white and blue, cutting off what was cutting out to be a long Sweeney-rant, the (ex-) president of the U.S. walked in.

(NOTE: If you like Bush, don't read this. Also, I know this is in the 1800's and Bush is from the 2000's, LIVE WITH IT! Now, back to our scheduled fan fiction-)

"Good day, sir," said Sweeney, a little exasperated.

Now, Mrs. Lovett was a Democrat. Well, she lived in England, but she read the papers and if she could vote, she would have voted Democratic.

"Kill him," hissed Mrs. Lovett.

"He'll be missed." Said Sweeney sharply before turning back to the president, who was alone. "Yes sir?"

"I'm not the president anymore, so I need to look good."

Nellie looked pointedly at Sweeney, who sighed and glared at Nellie.

"_Sit,"_ he said to Bush, which meant...well, sit. He shaved him for a while, and Nellie got bored and went downstairs to the bake house to make pies. She unceremoniously chopped up Dora and the fat guy and dumped the good parts in the grinder, putting the rest in the fire.

Then there was a rather large _THUMP_ behind her, and she turned to face the corpse of the former president of the U.S. She grinned.

**THE NEXT DAY…**

Nellie traipsed into the barbershop, carrying a pie.

Sweeney eyed it distastefully.

"What is_ that_?"

"It's Bush, have a little Bush," sang Mrs. Lovett.

Sweeney allowed himself a small smile before replying, singing,

"Is it really good?"

"Sir, it tastes like mush." Nellie smirked at Sweeney's bemused expression.

"Why would I want it?" he asked in a low voice.

"That was for me own amusement, love," she said.

Then she quickly exited before the famed Demon Barber decided to kill her.

That day, Mrs. Lovett served three types of pies:

An oddly colored orange and pink one, normal looking on the outside, but the inside looked strange. Still, it tasted pretty good.

A yellow one. It tasted…..well, like beer. And doughnuts. It wasn't too bad.

A disgusting one. It looked normal, but it tasted disgusting.

Mrs. Lovett was very happy that day, but two popular television shows were cancelled.

A yellow family in Springfield went on with life, but somewhere, a family of cartoon monkeys mourned.

_Poor thing._

Yet somewhere, years later, a family of three, soon to be four, living by the sea, rejoiced.

Yes, it's edited! The weird Sweenett thing is gone, but Sweenett still lives And you get Sweeney-speak!

Ah, yes. I was thinking of a sequel…with more people in the song.

Isn't it weird that I wrote the song before we even knew about Tim Burton's AIW, but now Johnny Depp's the Mad Hatter? In fact, I might have to change that line in fear of Johnny fans killing me…


	2. BONUS: A Little Bush

I figured this was complete, but I wanted to post this. This is The "A Little Bush" song, composed entirely (save one verse) on the night I wrote "Poor Thing." Thank God we remembered it! NOTE: For the original purposes of this parodic song, we changed all the pet-names (such as pet-seriously? WHO WOULD CALL SOMEONE ELSE _PET??_) to friend, but for the purposes of this story, we changed it back.

Do not read if you like Bush, Hitler (if you like Hitler, you have SERIOUS problems,) Nixon, Snape, Bob the Evil Cat, the Mad Hatter, gardeners (not too much insults there-my mom's a gardener- but it was the only thing that rhymed and made sense.) Or Napoleon, Fillmore, Hussien, Darth Vader, Nazis (see what I said for Hitler,) or Dora.

Normal= Sweeney Todd

_Italics= _Mrs. Lovett

**Bold= **Both

DISCLAMER: I do not own Sweeney Todd. Or Star Wars. Or Harry Potter. Or Alice in Wonderland. Or RuneScape. All the people here are A.) dead or B.) own themselves.

If I had owned any of these, Sweeney wouldn't have died. Neither would have Mrs. Lovett. If I owned Alice in Wonderland...I honestly have no idea what I'd do. If I owned RuneScape, I'd be rich. If I owned Harry Potter...see one of my HP stories.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What is that?

_It's Bush. Have a little Bush._

Is it really good?

_No, it tastes like mush._

_He killed cars and pencils and Voldy,_

_so it's pretty moldy._

Awful lot of fat...

_Only where it sat!_

Haven't you got Hitler, or something like that?

_No, you see the trouble with Hitler is how do you know it's Jew-ush?_

_Try the Bush._

_Nixon's rather nice_.

If it's for a price.

_Order something else though, to follow,_

_since no one could swallow it twice..._

Anything that's fat?

_Bob the Evil Cat._

_Though, of course, it tastes of wherever it's sat!_

Is that Snape, in a crepe?

_Mercy no, sir, look harder, you'll notice it's gardener-_

Looks fatter,

more like Mad Hatter,

_No, it has to be be gardener, it's green!_

The history of the world, my love- _Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favors- _

-Is those below serving those up above!

_-everybody shaves, so there should be plenty of flavors-_

How gratififying for once to know-

**That those above will serve those down below! **

What is that?

_It's Fillmore,_

_Finest in the store,_

_Or we have some people's pie toppered_

_With actual people on top _

_And I've just begun--_

'_Ere's Napoleon - so oily _

_He's served with a doily-- have one? _

Put him on a flapjack...

Well, you know know if he's going to attack!

_Try the Nazi- he's got no paparazzi,_

No-! The Hussien is really

too soft and too plain-

_Then Darth Vader?_

_The crusader-_

Ah, but always arrives still breathing...

I'll come again when you have Dora on the menu...

Have charity towards the world, my pet-

_Yes, yes, I know, my love!-_

We'll take the customers that we can get-!

_High-born and low, my love-_

We'll not discriminate great from small-

No, we'll serve anyone-

Meaning anyone- _We'll serve anyone-_

**And to anyone- At all! **


End file.
